Small, Small Jewish World

This afternoon I spent time wandering leisurely through the Mel Bochner: Strong Language exhibit at The Jewish Museum. Bochner's word art spoke to me.  The bright colors, the straight lines the perfectly painted letters, the messy lines, the slanted, paint-dripping-from-them letters, the Yiddishisms, the blah, blah, blah, blah, blahs...I loved each piece more than the one before it.

On my way out, I stopped to browse in the small gift shop, where I couldn't help overhearing this conversation among three Canadians who previously had discovered their shared nationality:  an older couple from Montreal and the young Torontonian saleswoman who was helping them:

Couple:  "How do you like living in New York?"
Saleswoman:  "I love it!"
Couple:  "Do you know Holy Blossom Temple?"
Saleswoman:  "Yes."
Couple:  "Is Elyse Goldstein still the rabbi there?"
Saleswoman: "No, I don't think so.  It's Yael Splansky now, I think."

As I walked past them on my way out, I considered chiming in to tell her that she was correct, but it didn't seem worth the effort.  I'm neither a Torontonian nor a Montrealer, and, heck, I'm not even Canadian.  There would just be too much explaining to do.  Instead, I walked out of the shop and out of the building.

Small, small Jewish world.

Where's JanetheWriter?

Today, I'm blogging over here, where I've put myself "out there" in an intensely personal way.  I'm a tad nervous about what may get posted in the comments section of the piece, but hopeful, too, that people will be respectful of the tough choices faced by those of us affected by hereditary breast and ovarian cancer (HBOC) -- and the decisions we make to preserve our health and save our own lives.

As I always say, if the post raises awareness about BRCA mutations in even one family where they weren't considered before, my "out-there-ness" will have been worth the effort.  For more information about these genetic defects, visit the FORCE website or be in touch with me directly.

The Divine Wink

Last Thursday, I received an email from a colleague/friend, the subject line of which said, "I'm sweet talking you..."

The message itself said this:

I was just asked to speak at Rabbi Ploni's good-bye Shabbat tomorrow night.  I’d love to have a letter from the president with me.  Is this at all possible? If I knew the date earlier, I would have asked. Thanks for considering it, Your friend

After a bit of back and forth about some details for the content of the letter, I was able to get it written and arrange to have the final version sent to her the next day, when I'd be out of the office.  She was grateful and our conversation continued:

My friend:  Jane, thank you so much! Enjoy your day off tomorrow.

Me:  Thanks.  It’s my mom’s yahrzeit…and I’ve got lots of odds and ends to do around the house.  Not a great day, but a vacation day, nonetheless.

My friend:  I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow.  Yahrzeits are a tough, sometimes lonely affair.

Me:  Thanks…it’s been a tough few weeks, and I will be glad when the actual day is past…until next year.

And then on Monday, how touched I was to receive this message from my friend:

How was the weekend (especially Friday)?

Me:  It was surprisingly lovely.  I had an unexpected visit from a friend who was in town from Florida for 36 hours and because I was home with not much on the agenda, she and the friend she was traveling with were able to come and hang out for a few hours.  Ironically, the last time I saw her was during shiva for my mom when she also was in town for a wedding.  Bashert!  Thanks for checking in…hope you had a good weekend!

My friend:  Jane, I am happy to hear this!  What a nice divine wink.

I love the idea that God can wink at us...and that God winked at me last week. Thanks, God.

I'll be looking for Your next one, and I hope I catch it when it happens.

Coming Soon: Tweet #Torah to the Top

Last night during Shabbat services, we counted the 45th day of the Omer, which means that Shavuot is only five days away.  Along with cheesecake, Tikkun Leil Shavuot study sessions, and Confirmation, Shavuot brings us "Tweet #Torah to the Top," an effort to get #Torah to "trend" on Twitter.  (Here's what I wrote about it last year.)

With that in mind, do not be alarmed when, this coming Tuesday, my Twitter and Facebook posts are early, often, and filled with #Torah.  Although those of us who participated in recent years have not been successful in getting #Torah to trend, perhaps it will happen this year.

Stay tuned...and plan to join us!

Brought to You by the Letter "B"

For a long time, I've known that my Aunt Claire and her first cousin, Phyllis, both have middle names that begin with "B" -- Claire Bertha and Phyllis Beverly -- and that they were named in memory of the same person.  Except that the person's name began with "B," I knew nothing more.

So I asked my Aunt Claire, who told me that it was my grandfather's mother, Brana.

Looking the name up in my copy of the Complete Dictionary of English and Hebrew First Names, I could not find it as Aunt Claire spelled it:  B-r-a-n-a.

However, the last entry on the bottom of page 294 is "Brina." In addition to noting a Hebrew spelling of bet-resh-yud-yud-nun-aleph, the entry says, "From the Yiddish, meaning 'brown.'  Also, from the Slavic, meaning 'protector.'"

The first entry on the top of page 295 is "Brine."  Like the English spelling, which is nearly identical to Brina except for the last letter, so too does the Hebrew spelling have a different letter at the end:  bet-resh-yud-yud-nun-ayin.  The description of the name, however, is identical:  "From the Yiddish, meaning 'brown.'  Akin to Brune."

Here's what Kolatch has to say about Brune:  "From the Yiddish, meaning 'brown,' or from the German name Brunhild, meaning 'fighter in armor.' See also Brina and Brine."  Like the English, the Hebrew spelling is slightly different than the two previous names:  bet-resh-vav-nun-ayin.

Satisfied that one of these variants was my great-grandmother's name, I asked Aunt Claire what she knew about her.  She said she didn't know much except that she'd died young, and that nobody talked much about her.  Her husband, Jacob, for whom I am named, remarried and lived into his 90s.

I have to admit that Aunt Claire's descriptions of her paternal grandparents make me wonder if it was Brina who carried the BRCA gene mutation that appears to have been passed along to my grandfather (he died from prostate cancer), and definitely came down to my mom, to my aunt, and to me.

Although we'll never know the answer, of course, it seems plausible to me.

Hey, That's Not Our Scroll!

Yesterday at the minyan, we worshipers were thrown for a bit of a loop when Rabbi Strom (this one, not this one) took this scroll from the ark at the beginning of the Torah service:

We, of course, were expecting this one, which we see and use each week:

As it turns out, Temple Shaaray Tefila was lucky to be hosting--for about 48 hours--the "guest scroll," which is in the midst of making its rounds throughout North America on its way to Israel.  Its journey began in San Diego, thanks to the generosity of Congregation Beth Israel and Rabbi Michael Berk.  Once in Israel, ARZA will present it to Women of the Wall to use at its monthly Rosh Chodesh service.  Here's more about the scroll, including a travelogue, if you will, of its journey.

So, although technically speaking the scroll doesn't belong to our congregation, it does, in fact, belong to all of us whose story is detailed in the carefully lettered words on its parchment.  Indeed, our guest scroll belongs to all of us just as does the Western Wall--into whose dry cracks and crevices we have been tucking our memories, stories and prayers, rolled thin like chiffonade, for much (but not all) of the last few millennia.  

As they gather to welcome Rosh Chodesh Tammuz by singing, celebrating, and retelling a piece of our people's story, may the women (and men) of Women of the Wall find that this scroll--our scroll--brings new meaning, energy, and the spirit of each of us (and our individual and collective stories) to their celebrations and their work.

Two Rabbis, a Book, and Lots of Names

During yesterday's "hallway kiddish" following Shabbat services, Marlene, a longtime member and regular at the minyan, handed me this article that she'd clipped from The Jewish Week after reading my recent Ten Minutes of Torah essay.  I had not seen Rabbi Wolpe's short piece, and appreciated that she had saved it for me.

Later, toward the end of Torah study, Rabbi Stein told the group that he's in the process of giving away the books in his library--he'll be retiring at the end of June--and that we were welcome to stop in to see what might be of interest.  Needless to say, many of us followed him down to his office, which is overflowing with shelves of neatly arranged and well organized volumes.

After a few minutes of browsing, I asked the rabbi about a book I've seen referenced many times that always sounds interesting, although I didn't know its exact title.

"It's about names," I said, which was enough of a clue for him to pull this well-worn red volume from the shelf:  Complete Dictionary of English and Hebrew First Names by Alfred J. Kolatch.

"I've been using it for 40 years," he told me.

Indeed, the binding is broken in a few spots, and a whole section of pages containing feminine names from Billie, a feminine pet form of William, to Elya, from the Syriac and Hebrew, meaning "dirge, elegy" is full detached from the rest of the book.

Nonetheless, after just a few minutes of flipping through the book's 400-plus pages (and a second, more scholarly work, also about names), I told him I'd take the former and thanked him for this unexpected gift.  I'm grateful not only to add this particular volume to my own collection, but glad to have it as a keepsake from a rabbi who has been exceedingly kind and caring to me, and from whom I have learned much during the last four years.

Only after I left the synagogue did I read Rabbi Wolpe's column as I waited for the bus.  Entitled "A Name, A Soul," it begins with this sentence:

The Book of Exodus, in Hebrew, is called "Sh'mot," or names.

Rabbi Wolpe goes on to talk about the value and importance of names, before closing with this paragraph:

The crown of a good name, teaches Pirke Avot, is the greatest of all crowns.  In a graveyard, whatever other inscription a stone bears, it invariably records the deceased's name.  Tyranny seeks to erase names.  Memory and love restore and preserve them.

I am honored to be the keeper of Rabbi Stein's copy of "Kolatch," into whose worn red cover I have slipped the clipping of Rabbi Wolpe's short essay.  I believe it's the perfect spot in which to keep it.